Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Syria and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Throbbing Gristle to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
X-102,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Monochrome Set,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brand Nubian,
World's Most,
The Fugs,
D'Angelo,
Nils Olav,
Flash Fearless,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Slits,
Black Pus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mo-Dettes,
Clear Light,
PIL,
Mark Hollis,
Bob Dylan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Animal Collective,
Tubeway Army,
Zero Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Bad Manners,
Shoche,
The J.B.'s,
Eve St. Jones,
KRS-One,
Carl Craig,
Soft Machine,
Blossom Toes,
Derrick May,
Lou Christie,
Surgeon,
Dark Day,
Subhumans,
The Standells,
Swell Maps,
Young Marble Giants,
Gabor Szabo,
Wolf Eyes,
Scratch Acid,
MDC,
The Martian,
Black Moon,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gories,
Todd Rundgren,
Public Image Ltd.,
Second Layer,
Cameo,
Organ,
The Pretty Things,
The Saints,
Pylon,
Cheater Slicks,
Kaleidoscope,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.